Spectrum
by octocelot
Summary: Snapshots from the childhood of Annie and Finnick's son, Finn, who is growing up affected by red-green colorblindness. /Uses Caesar's Palace Prompts
1. Rainbow

**Prompt: Rainbow**

**Word count: 100**

* * *

The first time Annie remembers noticing that Finn isn't very good with expressing himself through color is one afternoon that she's cleaning up the playroom while he's taking a nap. She's paging through his mostly untouched coloring books, smiling as she runs her fingers over his rough crayon marks. The dogs are purple. The leaves are blue. The grass is black. Annie first thinks nothing of it; it's just his creativity shining through, until Johanna pulls out a sheet of paper, colors polka dots, and asks him to match up his crayons with the colors.


	2. Purple

**Prompt: Purple**

**Word Count: 336**

* * *

"What is this one?"

The waves are calm today, so even though the voice is coming from at least twenty feet behind her, Johanna hears every word.

She turns around to see what Finn is holding, and he comes running towards her, his hands in the air as he tries to keep his balance while tugging along his big purple bucket. He doesn't seem to mind that it bangs against his knee every time he takes a step.

Johanna walks towards the little boy and hoists him up to her waist. "What's that you have there?"

As Finn giggles, she tries to use her only free hand to pry open his fingers, which are clamped shut like oysters. Johanna's fingers stop moving for a second, and Finn looks at her curiously. How _dare_ Aunty just end the game like that?

He had wished too soon, for an ambush of tickles descends upon his unsuspecting belly.

Shrieking with laughter, he kicks back and almost falls out of Johanna's arms. With a soft "oh!" Johanna catches him and extracts the object from between his fingers.

"What's this, Finn?"

"Shell!"

"Did you ask what color it is?" .

He nods, and Johanna begins walking again, twisting the shell around with her fingers. She doesn't really know. What kind of words could she use to describe all of the blending shades and tints?

"It's what we call purple," she decides finally.

"Like my bucket?"

"Sort of. There are different kinds of purples...like how sometimes dogs feel different if you pet them differently." She gives him the shell, and he drops it. It lands with the rest of his collection with a satisfying _chhit_.

"What kind of purple is this?"

She pauses. "It's a smooth kind. Like the feeling of silk bed covers."

He pushes at her to signal that he wants to go down. She sets him down on the ground, and he toddles ahead of her to pick up another shell.


	3. Yellow

**Prompt: Yellow**

**Word Count: 100**

* * *

"Aunt Jojo, no lemon."

Finn holds his pack of candies up as high as he can and attempts to thrust it into Johanna's midsection.

"Currently, Aunt Jojo is doing important things," she mutters, staring at the impossible rack of spices before her. "Just don't eat right now. I'll help you later."

Finn gives a little sigh and puts his arm back down. Johanna hears a wrapper crinkle, and thinking all is well, she turns her attention back to her shopping list.

Almost immediately, Johanna hears a vehement "bleck!" and finds a slobbery, chewed up yellow candy in her hand.

"Finn!"


	4. Green

**Prompt: Green**

**Word Count: 137**

* * *

Finn has a bit of trouble on the first day of preschool. Despite his mother's informing one of the counselors, he is still forced to do an activity that requires matching colors.

"I can't!"

The counselor patiently points to a bright poster on the wall. "Do you mean you can't, or do you mean you won't?"

"I can't." Finn repeats, choking on his tears and putting his head between his knees. "I can't. I can't."

The counselor is distraught. "You have to. Here, is this what the color of the leaves of the trees look like?" She tries to pull his head out so he can look at the paper.

When Annie comes to collect her son, the counselor nursing a tender finger is not nearly as amused as she.


	5. Orange

**Prompt: Orange**

**Word Count: 100**

* * *

"Uncle Peeta, what's your favorite color?"

Peeta grunts and shifts the position of his leg on the sand, unsure of what to say. What kind of questions would follow if he answered this one?

"Orange," Peeta replies finally.

"What's it like?" Finn asks as soon as the answer reaches his ears.

Peeta pauses as his stomach falls during a somersault. "Warm as the setting sun. Bright like a fire on a cold day.

"What's your favorite smell?"

Finn tilts his head, hums, and taps his lips like he has seen his mother do. "Smoke, I think. It sounds like orange."


	6. Pink

**Prompt: Pink**

**Word Count: 239**

* * *

When Annie was still pregnant, she had painted the nursery pink. Perhaps part of her wanted a Finna instead. When a Finn came and a Finnick left, she was too tired to care about the color of the nursery. Pink is fine.

It is fine for six years before Finn's friends from school come over for an afternoon. Annie doesn't really want to host, but she lets three little strangers into her home, for Finn.

"Do you want to go to Finn's room to play with his trains?" she asks pleasantly.

They all are very excited, and none object, so she herds them there and leaves them to play. But she cannot help but lurk outside the doorway to keep an eye on her son.

"Why is your room pink?" she hears one of the little boys ask.

Is this what bullying is? Annie turns scenarios over in her head, and each one ends with a disaster. She's sweating now; what is she going to do if this gets out of control? How will she explain to Finn that the color of walls is important to some people? How could she?

"Why does it matter?" Finn's confident voice jolts her out of her panicking. "It's just a color."

"It's for girls."

"I can't see it, anyway."

Annie lets out her held breath and sneaks away, smiling. She reckons that the boys will like apples and peanut butter for snack.


	7. Brown

**Prompt: Brown**

**Word Count: 308**

* * *

Katniss tries not to cringe as each step Finn takes echoes throughout the forest. It's a good thing that she's just showing him the traps around her home. She thinks he's smart enough to not step on them, but doesn't seem to take any interest in the tangle of ropes and wire, and instead is poking at a green snake sunbathing in the grass.

She smiles and waves him over. "Don't touch the brown ones, alright? They can kill you, but the green ones are okay.

"Come on."

Finn drops his stick and trots after Katniss as she leads him through the clearing. Something is stirring in the bushes to her right...

"Stay here," Katniss orders. Finn nods, and she sets off through the tall grasses. When she reaches the source of the sound, she finds nothing. Next time, she'll set the trap better to catch it by surprise.

When she returns, she finds him with a different stick, poking at another snake. Her eyes widen. Oh god. She should have never...

He grunts as Katniss picks him up roughly and carries him away from his spot.

"Didn't I tell you not to touch the black and red ones? Why would you do that?" She tried to be gentle but her words came out with a harsh edge to them.

Finn looks like he might cry. "I can't see red or green," he whispers.

"What?" Katniss flies back to her conversation with Annie before they left the house. She had mentioned...yes, Annie had said something.

"I'm sorry, Finn," Katniss says finally. "Don't touch the big snakes. The first snake, the skinny, small one, was a garden snake. The second snake was a copperhead." After a long silence between them, Katniss continues. "Let's go home."

Finn agrees.


	8. Silver

**Prompt: Silver**

**Word Count: 316**

* * *

Annie bends over to meet Finn eye to eye. "Finn, I'm going to give you one silver piece. You should buy one swordfish and come home. Don't let the fishermen cheat you. Give them no more than one silver piece for one fish. And then come home immediately. Do you understand? Can I trust you?"

Finn bobbs his little head. "Yes, ma'am!" he squeaks.

"Good." She pats his hair down with a smile and pushes a coin into the palm of his hand. "Off you go!"

He runs out of the door and races to the market, enjoying the feel of the wind against his face. When the smell of fish gets more pungent, his excitement rises and he runs a little faster.

Finally, he's there. He paces around with his hands behind his head, puffing out his cheeks with each breath. He really shouldn't have run that face.

After a few minutes, he's all right again, and he approaches the first stand. "Swordfish?" he asks, recognizing the fish by its very long upper lip.

"That'll be eight bronze pieces, little sir," says a man whose deepest wrinkles are around his eyes.

"Oh, I've got one silver piece right-" Finn checks his hands and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Not here."

Finn drops to the ground to feel around for the coin, even though he's almost sure it's not there. Before he knows it's happening, his lip is quivering, and he's babbling. "My mom gave me a silver piece. I ran here, and I don't know where it is. She's going to be so mad! I'm so dead! I'm dead!"

* * *

Well, I'm happy to say that Finn did not die that day, perhaps because he ended up trotted home with a swordfish in a bag filled with ice.


	9. Black

**Prompt: Black**

**Word Count: 170**

* * *

Annie is fitting her grumbling son into a small, black suit. He twists his arm in an attempt to get away from his mother's flurrying hands.

"I'm not in the mood to struggle with you right now," she says sternly.

"I just don't understand why I need to wear this," he mumbles, a hint of a whine peeking through.

"We wear black to funerals. It's just an unspoken rule of culture," she replies, tugging down on the hem of his shirt. "You don't have anything else that's black and formal."

"Why does it matter what color I wear? I don't care."

"Finn, stop." Annie grabs his shoulder. "You are almost ten now. You should know better. Sometimes you need to do things for people other than yourself."

Her hands slow as she finishes the knot in his tie. Tiredly, she adds, "My aunt Laurie deserves that much."

She tightens his tie so violently that Finn gags.

"Okay." She dusts off his pants and pats him on the chest. "You're ready."


	10. Blue

**Prompt: Blue**

**Word Count: 100**

* * *

"Your dad always said that the color of the sky on the horizon looks different to different people," a wistful voice cuts the peace.

"What?" She and Finn are sitting on the porch after eating some of his twelfth birthday cake. "What did it look like to him?"

"Oh, it looks different each time, you know? Depends on the time of day, the weather."

He squints, but all he sees is blue and yellow. He doesn't know at all, but he imagines his father beside him, pointing at the endless, tiny sliver of sky, and it doesn't matter.


	11. Gray

**Prompt: Gray**

**Word Count: 115**

* * *

Finn meets Eva on the first day of seventh grade. Something strange inside him is poked, and it stirs from sleep. He admits that he likes her, but that doesn't stop his sweaty palms, lightheadedness, and tendency to laugh at everything she says. They sit next to each other only sometimes, but when they talk, he is charmed.

The night after the afternoon that she laughed at his jokes and punched his shoulder, and he laughed at her and pretended that it hurt, he has a dream.

When he wakes up the next morning, he can't remember what it was about, but he feels like he saw more than blue, yellow, and gray.


	12. Bronze

**Prompt: Bronze**

**Word Count: 432**

**Mentions of nudity and suggestive (sexual) content.**

* * *

Even though it's only early spring, Finn is sweating in his room.

His mother has gone to the thrift shop and bought a few antiques and collectibles. He imagines that she's cleaning them now.

When he had asked if she needed help, she just had shooed him away. So, for the past hour, he had sprawled on his bed waiting for the heat to die down. Now, it's simply too much. With a groan he pushes himself out of a puddle of sweat and walked downstairs.

He's met with a wave of heat. What is his mom doing?

He turns the corner and is given the answer. Annie is bent over the furnace, stuffing paper into a roaring fire. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, but some of stray strands have managed to creep back into her face. She sharply pushes it behind her ear and rubs her eye.

"What are you doing?" Finn blurts.

Annie looks up before shoving another bundle into the paper. Finn walks towards the pile of newspapers and magazines and picks up the one on top. Leafing through it, he comes across the side-view of a creature with monstrous horns growing from a brilliant, bald scalp. Its human face is tilted up in bliss with droplets of pain, as it leans back on its knees, its breasts pointed to the sky. Its perky nipples laced with paint and rhinestones capture the light bouncing off this creature's chest. Finn's eyes follow the gentle arch of its body from the point of its horns, to its almost closed eyelids, to the curve of its buttocks, the curls peeking between its legs, its palms resting on the ground and arms holding up its figure like pillars . . .

"What's this?" he asks, turning the page.

A man with a trident tattooed suggestively on his lower abdomen is kneeling before a man with a bull's head. One of his hands tugs on the waistband of the loincloth of the bull-man, while the other is tucked under his own. His head is being pulled backwards by a huge fist.

Finn feels something pooling at the pit of his core. Warmth, definitely. Guilt, perhaps.

Their skin is on the lighter side of dark and shiny. It seems that that is the theme of this issue.

His mother snatches the magazine violently and throws it into the fire, giving Finn a papercut. "Ouch!" Finn gasps, drawing his hand back.

"I'm burning them," his mother half-shouts through gritted teeth. "Go make yourself lunch."


	13. Gold

**Prompt: Gold**

**Word count: 254 words**

* * *

He wipes his sweaty hands on his smooth pants. He's eighteen now, and he can't help but think that this rite is too much like The Reapings that the generation before him had still attended when they were his age. Finn thinks about what would be happening if not for the rebellion, and he imagines that he would be feeling a mixture of relief and guilt. This would be his last year. Not that he would have anything to worry about, because he'd know who was going into the games, one of the elite. He imagines reading boredom on his friends' faces as the name on the slip of paper was read aloud. And perhaps he would be forced to volunteer, as a child of two victors. Of course they wouldn't care. The odds would be in their favor, and they would have been against them since his birth.

"Finn Cresta!"

He is jolted from his thoughts and rises from his seat. Now, all he needs to do is walk across the stage without tripping.

Later, he can barely recall briefly shaking someone's hand and something being said about him about "graduating with honors and going to university," and a heavy medal being placed around his neck. The sun shoots his eyes as its light bounces off the metal.

But he does not think he will forget the sight of his mother staring straight into his eyes, her hand covering her mouth and her shoulders heaving with happy sobs.

* * *

**That's all, folks!**


End file.
